


half life

by littl3words



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Coping, M/M, Obsession, Post Reichenbach, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littl3words/pseuds/littl3words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is jealous of a deadman. Even though it's what he wanted, Jim isn't coping well with Sherlock's death.<br/>It's him, that will drive Sebastian mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	half life

**Author's Note:**

> prompt number 39; half life  
> (from 64damn-prompts.livejournal.com/profile)
> 
> hi uh i have no clue if i'm doing this right! just joined ao3, and haven't written in foreeever. please send me a message/comment/whatever if i've done something wrong!!  
> thank you yvy

He’s not all there.    
I know he’s not, never has been, never will.

  
God, what I’d give to have all of him, one focused man, even just for a moment.   
Jim loves me, I know he does, but his heart isn’t mine, it’s still beating after him.    
Even dead, he’s still taking my Jim from me. 

 

It’s always been like this, since I’ve been in his employment, and probably even before that. Jim’s eyes, deep, soulless eyes, black as night, but somehow still so full of life, those eyes prancing around the room, even if there’s nothing to look at. Like a million displays, all in his head, all but one focused on _him_. One, I think, is for me. I hope. 

  
His fingers tap, move, grasp, never still, always wrapped like the air is a tangible thought, filled with executable plans, just for him.In his ever playing game of chess, I’m not much more than a pawn, expendable for the sake of ultimate victory. Those fingers, They’re like spindles, perfectly skeletal, tapping to an unknown beat only Jim could ever march to. Cold and calculating, I’ll never know what that madman is thinking, even through his constant flurry of emotion, he’s still a blank wall.   
Even when he’s with me, hand in hand, head on shoulder, lips on lips, whatever it could possibly be, he’s still with _him_. 

  
He has the best and worst of intentions, I know this too. He coos to me, words of affection and love, but sometimes I think they’re not meant for me. Whenever he looks me in the eyes, I only have his attention for the finest moment, a flicker of a hushed breath, and then his mind and soul is with him, _Sherlock Holmes_. Jim is living a double life, one with me, an intimate relationship, something more than just boss and assassin with a thing on the side, something that’s really love. And the other is with him, a battle of ingenious wits, intellect far above my head, a constant maze of webs, crime, and subtext. It was a double life.

Sherlock Holmes is dead, jumped off the roof, just as Jim had planned. I’m not sure this is the result he expected. His one life— the one that was stopped, to be with just me, has now turned into a half life. The other, genius of a half, is dead, and Jim has lost the only person capable of keeping him sane and entertained. Something I could never dream of being capable of doing. I think Jim truly wanted him to figure his way out of death, to come back and play another day. Jim knows he’s the villain, and that the heroes always win. He knows that Sherlock will always have to out smart him. I think he’s devastated that he’s actually won. 

  
Since I met Jim, I’ve wanted Sherlock Holmes dead. So Jim could stop his obsessing, and just live again, and be with _me_.   
There has never been another time in my life that I have ever wanted Sherlock to be alive so badly. 

I just want Jim to live again. 

  
I’d give my half life to make his whole again.


End file.
